


other things may change

by preromantics



Category: Speed Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Apolo comes back a week later with a lot more baggage than he left with.</i> Or: Apolo adopts a kid, J.R. reluctantly learns to be a parent, and even kids know that adults suck at feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	other things may change

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the quote "Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family," by Anthony Brandt.

The easy part, surprisingly, is getting the apartment ready. J.R. goes about it mostly in the mindset that it's really not happening, that he's not leaning against the door of their spare bedroom watching Apolo on the floor trying to puzzle together a toddler bed.

He goes out and buys clear plastic wall socket covers and tires to figure out what sort of curtains a four year old would like, all the while not really coming to terms with the fact Apolo is actually going through with the whole kid thing.

(The first conversation had been simple; J.R. had just gotten back from a training session and Apolo had sat down across the kitchen counter from him, waiting until J.R. had a mouth full of Cheerios to say, "So, I'm going to adopt. I'm tired of waiting for a relationship -- I want kids, always have."

And J.R. had basically almost swallowed his mouthful completely wrong, torn between laughing and pausing just enough at how serious Apolo looked, sitting across the counter in one of J.R.'s oversized college shirts with his hands crossed.

Nothing even Yuki could say had swayed Apolo's mind.)

Anyway, it doesn't really settle in for J.R. that there is about to be a kid in his life -- okay, Apolo's life, but they share an apartment so it's practically a default that J.R. will be partly responsible for the kid, and he is entirely not ready to be a part-time father, shit -- until he's watching Yuki drive Apolo to the airport from the kitchen window, the entire apartment clean and bright around him.

–

Apolo comes back a week later with a lot more baggage than he left with. Namely, the kid, and J.R. fights the urge to maybe hide in the kitchen for a little while because he is totally a responsible adult and it's absolutely okay if his roommate wants to have a kid. Or whatever.

"Benjamin, hey," Apolo says when J.R. grabs luggage from him, coaxing the little boy out from behind his legs, "Ben, come meet J.R."

The light is sort of soft in the entryway to the apartment, but it's enough that J.R. can see the small face peeking from around Apolo's leg, wide eyes taking in the space around him and then peering up at J.R.

J.R. bends down next to the luggage and finds his smile comes easier than he thought it might, waving small and short at Ben until he gets a timid grin back.

Apolo laughs, tired but easy, and he picks up Ben with an ease of familiarity that J.R. didn't think would've come so easy, yet, to take him on a tour of the house.

–

For a four year old Benjamin is -- mostly a quiet kid. Everything J.R. remembers about little kids is apparently completely wrong, because he really did buy a pair of those foam earplug things from Walmart on the same shopping trip he bought a Batmobile (it was awesome okay, and completely for the kid, not in any way for a 21 year old who happened to live in the same place the Batmobile would be, well, residing.)

"It's an adjustment phase," Apolo says, voice quiet in the kitchen because the kid is sleeping. "He's getting used to the new environment." He looks tired, and J.R. can't blame him, but he's used to Apolo's regularly bright energy and everything right now is kind of throwing him.

"So I shouldn't return my earplugs yet?" J.R. asks, enough for Apolo to roll his eyes and swat at J.R.'s arm.

They stand in the kitchen in companionable silence, punctuated by the crunch of J.R.'s cereal, ("Kids stuff," Apolo calls it,) and Apolo's yawning.

"Do you think he'll skate?" J.R. asks after a few minutes, genuinely wondering, taking a moment to imagine Ben out on the ice with big over-sized skates, Apolo teaching him; the thought makes him smile into his cereal.

"Yuki says not to push him," Apolo says, leaning further on the counter, "I don't know. I'd like him to, but I don't want to be that parent who tries to hold up an Olympic legacy or whatever."

"Hey," J.R. says, "I thought I was holding up your Olympic legacy." He mock-frowns and raises and eyebrow.

"Protege," Apolo corrects with a quick grin. "You get what I mean."

J.R. nods, the image of Ben – fresh in his mind, all tiny boy and messy hair and round cheeks, such a little kid, and J.R. is not used to it at all – out on the ice with Apolo towering over him still making him grin. "You spend enough time at the rink as it is, now. He'll probably grow up either loving it or hating it."

A door down the hall creaks before Apolo can answer with more than a shrug, and Apolo sets his cup down to go meet Ben. They've got a whole house – a whole city, even – to explore, and J.R. has to go to the gym.

–

There's a routine to having a kid, J.R. decides. Ben wakes up early, around the time J.R. always wishes he wasn't awake but knows he has to be.

Apolo makes breakfast more often, tempting J.R. into the kitchen with herbal omelets, sausage patties that are way better than McDonald's could ever hope to be and the only type of bacon that Ben will eat (how he knows one brand from another is beyond J.R., but he supposes it's a kid thing.)

The apartment stays mostly clean but feels cluttered with Ben wandering around, leaving toys and books across every available surface.

J.R. is training harder for Worlds already, and leaves with a wave from Ben and comes back to a waiting hug. Sometimes Apolo brings lunch to the rink or J.R. swings home after the gym.

The routine, Ben included, is surprisingly nice.

–

Ben navigates life in a different way than J.R. is used to; he does things with caution, so unlike Apolo, asking nicely to play with something and only getting angry over things like food and attention.

J.R. finds himself charmed, putting in Polar Express more times than he should just because Ben wants to see it back to back, and laying on the couch with Ben sitting half-on him, both of them waiting for Apolo to come home with groceries or come back from whatever meetings he goes to that J.R. doesn't even really understand.

The first day Ben calls Apolo "dad," not faltering on the word at all, just calling to him from the living room, Apolo looks almost shocked, and his eyes get too-bright and his face is so pleased that J.R. has to look away. He turns to rummage in the refrigerator for a post-lunch snack and pretends it's the wave of garlic from leftover take-out that makes his throat feel dry and heavy.

–

Worlds come way quicker than J.R. means for them to come. Apolo comes with him to the ice everyday for the last week before J.R. has to fly out for the competition and Ben comes along too – six months into living with them he's no stranger to the rink, but J.R. notices his eyes are a little wider now, watching J.R. push with the relay team.

On the last day of local training, Ben presents both Apolo and J.R. with a construction paper drawing he made from the sidelines under the supervision of a coach's daughter.

It's simple and childish in all the best ways a drawing by a four year old can be, (almost five now, J.R. reminds himself, still trying to think of the perfect gift, like Ben won't toss it aside for the nearest box around the house that he can pretend is a cave,) but it's also – different.

The coach's daughter apparently told Ben to draw a picture of his house, basic enough. When Ben hands the drawing over proudly, J.R. stands next to Apolo and studies it. It's their house, the apartment building slanting at an angle that would definitely not work in construction, with J.R. standing next to Apolo and Ben, wide toothy grins on both their faces and pairs of what J.R. assumes are skates next to all of them. Underneath in carefully guided letters that J.R. knows Ben probably didn't write himself it is titled, "Family."

J.R. hangs in on the fridge when they get home, lifting Ben up so he can position the magnets himself, (a Nike one that J.R. picked up somewhere, one from a fridge poetry set that says "skate", and two that Apolo had made to advertise his website forever ago, for whatever reason.)

He looks at the drawing next to pictures from the Vancouver games and one of Apolo asleep surrounded by bags of popcorn – a joke picture from what feels like an eternity ago – and thinks, yeah, family.

He's almost sad when he leaves in the early morning to fly out for Worlds, it hitting him all of the sudden that it will be the first time he's away from Ben since he came, and god, what will he do when he has to move out of the apartment. Or if Apolo meets someone.

J.R. stops thinking along that train of thought and visualizes ice, cool and clean and sliding under his skates.

–

J.R. wants to do amazingly at Worlds. He wants to show everyone he'll be ready for the Olympics, back to claim as many golds for the U.S. as possible and maybe a little bit to show everyone he really can fill Apolo's shoes. (He can't, literally speaking; Apolo has smaller feet and J.R. completely resents his awesome shoe collection for that. Metaphorically he wants to fill Apolo's shoes, though. Make him proud.)

Apolo shows up with Ben on the first day of competition, both of them waving from the stands during the final training run.

"You didn't think I wouldn't come watch you kick international ass?" Apolo asks, covering Ben's ears in a silly, fatherly way as he says it, like it's going to help.

J.R. doesn't know what to say, exactly, because he's afraid it will come out stupid and all about how he wanted Apolo there all along, so he just extends a hand over the ice barrier to Ben for a high five and grins wide at Apolo, feeling lighter on the ice than any time before.

He wins three golds (including their relay) and a bronze, sufficiently placing him high enough in the international short track ranks that he has official bragging rights and the first reporter to talk to him uses phrases about dominating the Olympics at Sochi in a few months.

Ben doesn't really understand what it all means, but he kisses J.R. with a big smack on the cheek and Apolo hugs him tight, tight enough that J.R. can't breathe for a few seconds, and everything is – really great.

–

Back at the apartment, J.R. takes a break before Olympics. Somehow one of his rambling speeches about Vancouver and whatever poetic late-night speeches he uses to describe ice push Apolo into taking a sub-coach spot for the U.S. team, acting as a trainer before and during the games.

The break is nice. Apolo experiments with food, recipes from Yuki (who, as it turns out, is practically a master chef and J.R. has more than once emailed him back with praise for the cookie and baked-goods packages that he sometimes sends Apolo, chiefly in the hope that he'll send tons more,) which don't always turn out that great.

J.R., at least, tries to keep his occasional expressions of disgust less obvious than Ben's, which are always hilarious on his small flushed and round-cheeked face.

They make a fort one night, a few days before Ben's birthday. It sprawls across the entire living room, and Apolo helps Ben strip the sheets from all of their beds, stacking them neatly over the maze of furniture from around the house they've dragged into center of the room.

J.R. finds flashlights and figures out how to get lamps inside, Ben brings his favorite books and as many pillows as he can stack in his small arms over a few trips, and Apolo brings snacks.

"This," J.R. says, munching on popcorn with Ben's head resting on his upper arm, "is the best fort I've ever been in."

"All it needs is the TV and we could keep it as a permanent part of the living room," Apolo muses, reaching out a hand to rest on Ben's side, fingers pressing against the indents of J.R.'s ribs almost absently.

Ben lights up, twisting a little but keeping himself tucked against J.R. "Can we keep it like this?" he asks, practically thrumming with excitement at the thought.

Apolo rolls his eyes fondly over Ben's head at J.R. "We'll see," Apolo says, ruffling Ben's hair.

Ben falls asleep against J.R.'s side, warm like a little heater pressed against him, and J.R. picks him up as carefully as he can, breaking his head through the top of the sheet-fort gracelessly and laughing as quietly as possible when Apolo is left tangled on the floor in the aftermath of all the fallen sheets.

Apolo makes shushing noises at him and flails around untwisting himself for a minute before standing with Ben's sheets plucked out of the pile, leading the way to Ben's room to make the bed as J.R. keeps Ben in his arms, sleeping against his his shoulder.

They tuck Ben in carefully, and J.R. feels comfortable and easy, like walking through the air in the house is just like swimming in it, light.

"I wish I could sleep like that," Apolo says, standing outside J.R.'s bedroom door because it's on the way to his room, smiling sleepy and soft and it's the first time J.R. really sees what a father Apolo has become, how he has a new look in his eye.

For a split second he wants to keep the evening going, let it evolve, and thinks about things he hasn't thought about since he was 16, training for real with Apolo for the first time, watching his muscles move on the ice and thinking too many things and wanting too much –

Apolo squeezes his shoulder. "Fort clean up duty in the morning," he says, failing at imitating an army sergeant or prison guard or whatever he was going for. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," J.R. says, but the thoughts from before linger with him all the way to bed.

–

For Ben's birthday, Yuki comes over with a cake. It sort of feels like it's J.R.'s birthday, because he's been wanting a freshly baked Yuki Cake for what seems like forever, and having Yuki in the apartment always makes everything seem warmer somehow.

Apolo spoils Ben with gifts, which Yuki shakes his head at affectionately and Ben talks more to Yuki than he does to anyone else that isn't J.R. or Apolo, going on about things that fly and trains and, to everyone's surprise, how much he likes ice.

"Out of all those gifts," Yuki says later, watching Ben passed out on the floor around numerous open boxes and a pile of blankets, "you didn't get him skating lessons. I'm rather impressed."

"I was waiting for him to ask," Apolo says, sitting on the arm of the chair J.R. is sitting in like he'll have to get up and go clean or something at any minute. Yuki nods at him, satisfied.

("Such a good housewife," J.R. comments that evening, low and conspiratorially later to Yuki while Apolo does the the dishes, and he doesn't mean anything by it, really, but Yuki smiles slow and small with a brightness to his eyes that almost makes J.R. want to frown, to take it back, but he doesn't.)

–

Ben cries when Yuki leaves, which is strange; he rarely cries.

"You're going to leave too," he accuses, lips drawn into a frown a pointing at J.R. while he's crying.

"What for?" Apolo asks him, frowning back.

J.R. steps forward sort of awkwardly, entirely comfortable with Ben now but not used to him being so visibly upset. He wraps a few fingers around Ben's hand and bends down. "I'm not going anywhere," he says.

"You're going to the Olympics," Ben says back, stumbling over the vowel sounds of Olympics in an endearingly cute way, "far away."

Apolo laughs, head tipped all the way back and squeezes Ben into him. "We're all going to go," he says, low and amused, "we're going to root J. on as loud as we can."

"Oh," Ben says, small and pleased, and he squirms out of Apolo's arms. "Okay."

J.R. rolls his eyes and Apolo gets up to follow Ben, turning first and running a hand through J.R.'s hair, grinning. "We really are going to be embarrassingly loud," he says, seriously. "I have permission from your mother and everything."

J.R. ducks away from his hand and shoves at him, feeling the pressure of Apolo's fingers on his scalp long after he takes his hand away.

–

Ben gets sick a month before J.R. has to leave for Sochi (he has to go a few days ahead of Apolo and Ben; trainers don't need to check in as early, lucky bastard.)

It's not entirely serious, but it keeps Apolo and J.R. up in shifts for four days straight, taking turns watching Ben and checking on his fever, calling the 24 hour pharmacy when they aren't sure what to do and the doctor isn't on call.

It's stressful, especially with training so hard for the Olympics, and on the end of the fourth day when Ben's fever breaks, J.R. falls asleep next to him on Apolo's bed, half in the covers with Ben tucked into his chest.

Apolo joins them at some point, coming in from the couch, and J.R. is just vaguely aware of the press of Apolo's hands as he pulls the covers up over him, the shake of the mattress as Apolo settles in on the other side of Ben.

When he wakes up in the morning his neck is sore and everything around him is warm and smells different, smells like Apolo, clean and somewhat spicy, like Apolo's recent adventures in baking carried into his bed.

Apolo is across from him, Ben still asleep down near their chests, and he's looking at J.R. with squinty, sleep-filled eyes and a small twist of his lips.

"He slept through the night," Apolo whispers, when J.R. looks up at him, flushing from the heat and maybe something else.

"That's good," J.R. says back, low and gravely with sleep. He yawns wide and open and feels sheepish afterwards, practically in Apolo's face.

Apolo snorts a breath out at him and reaches out, and for a split second J.R. forgets to suck in another breath as Apolo's fingers run down his cheek in a slow, soft drag.

"Apolo," J.R. says, barely a breath or word at all, and he has no idea what words will follow it, but Apolo shakes his head to cut him off.

"You have at least two more hours of sleep before you have to get up for relay training," he says, leaning his own head back down into the pillow. "I'll wake you up."

J.R. closes his eyes and bites back whatever wants to spill out of his mouth. Ben moves in his sleep and shifts closer to Apolo, and J.R. relaxes back into the mattress as best he can, missing the warmth.

–

J.R. spends the days left before the games alternating between intense training and reluctant relaxation of both his mind and body, but it sort of makes him go crazy.

Apolo is understanding, but J.R. gets the feeling he's also getting some sort of pleasure out of it, which is wrong on so many levels, but J.R. supposes Apolo deserves to watch other people slave away at his sport while he sits comfortably in retirement and trains from the sidelines, too.

They all go to the park after training one day, because Ben is feeling completely better and has more energy than J.R. knows what to do with and Apolo wants to get in as much mild weather as possible before they go to Russia.

It's a nice day; a great one, actually, though J.R. pays for it when he gets home, passing out on the couch out of exhaustion before dinner, but he dreams of the sun warm on his skin and chasing Ben down slides not meant for people J.R.'s age and finding Apolo's face with a wide grin waiting for them, for J.R., down at the bottom.

Apolo wakes him up for dinner with a hand shaking his shoulder and J.R. opens his eyes to Ben's face far too close.

"I thought you'd died," Ben says, plainly with wide eyes.

Apolo shakes his head. "Go wash up," he says, pushing lightly at Ben's head with a laugh.

"You look beat," Apolo says when Ben leaves, bending down near the couch. "I'd say go back to sleep, but I made your favorite stir fry and as I'm partially responsible for you living long enough to win as much gold as possible." He reaches to pull J.R. off the couch with his hand, locking their fingers together and propelling him off the couch, always stronger than he looks.

J.R. maybe holds a little tighter and a little longer onto Apolo's hand than he means to, the smell of stir-fry making his stomach grumble, but that's just because he's tired.

–

 

The pictures come out right before Sochi, the same day before J.R. has to fly out.

They are from the day at the park, just J.R. and Apolo with Ben, shots of J.R. running after Ben and of Apolo tackling them both. Walking around with J.R. holding one of Ben's hands and Apolo holding his other, swinging him in-between them.

J.R. remembers the day clear enough from dreams around the haze of mixed intensity and exhaustion surrounding him, how it had felt so good to be out of the rink and just out with his two favorite people, how the mid-winter sun had been warm on his skin.

Except, in the pictures it doesn't look like J.R. remembers. It shouldn't bother him, the spin the media puts on the whole day; turning he and Apolo's relationship into something it isn't, their day out with Ben into some sort of public coming out as a couple, as fathers, or whatever else they are reporting.

J.R. is supposed to be focused on Sochi and instead he's angry at it all, irrationally so.

(He's angry, too, when he thinks of waking up in Apolo's bed with Ben in between them, of Apolo's sleepy smile at him and his squinty eyes. Of how warm Apolo's fingers had been against his cheek and how J.R. had just felt – everything, so content with life.)

"It's just pictures," Apolo says, frowning.

"No," J.R. says, stacking his luggage on the couch, because they aren't, and he and Apolo aren't, that's not how it works, "it's the way they look, just --"

Ben's sitting and watching, Batmobile resting by his knees, so J.R. falters for what to say. He needs to figure something out, something to tell the press at Sochi. He can handle it, but it would be really great to have Apolo's support.

"Look like what?" Apolo asks, and he's still frowning when J.R. looks up from his bags.

"Why are you going now?" Ben asks, standing up to lean his head against J.R.'s thigh, not paying attention to what J.R. and Apolo are discussing.

"I --" J.R. pauses and works a grin onto his face to look down at Ben, "I'm only going two days before you, I've got all the fun grown-up stuff to do so I can race."

Ben nods, mollified, but hugs onto J.R.'s thigh, face pressed into the denim of J.R.'s jeans and hair sticking up. J.R. feels briefly like someone is constricting his breathing, even though he knows he's already been away from Ben for more than two days in a row, he can handle it. It's not just that, but it's easy to pretend it is.

When J.R. looks up from Ben, Apolo is looking at him, quiet and strange, a look J.R. can't place.

"Would it really be so bad?" Apolo asks, sounding unsure about something for the first time in a while, and J.R. doesn't know what to say.

(No, it wouldn't – it would probably be perfect and they'd never fight unless it was about stupid stuff like what type rice to use for dinner, or when Apolo was going to un-retire or go into full time coaching, and Apolo's bed would always be warm when they went to sleep because he actually took the time to make it in the mornings and –)

"I have to go to the airport," J.R. says, sucking in a breath. "I'll miss my flight and Cho will probably kill me."

"Yeah," Apolo says, after a minute, bending down to pick up Ben. "We wouldn't want that." He doesn't smile and J.R. doesn't know what to say.

J.R. grabs his bags with more force than necessary, neither of them commenting on the fact that they've gone from Apolo driving him to the airport to J.R. going alone in only a matter of minutes.

"Bye, little man," J.R. says, leaning over to press his nose against one of Ben's rounded cheeks, Apolo's breath on J.R.'s scalp from above.

When he leaves, Ben waves and then turns into Apolo's chest, and Apolo just nods from the door.

Maybe, he thinks, trying to focus on the highway on the way to the airport, maybe he's just mad because they aren't the same as what the pictures looked like, and when did he become so damn stupid?

 

–

Sochi is a parade of check-ins and press when J.R. gets there, right off an uncomfortably quiet flight with half the team, remarks on Apolo's absence from them all too-loud to J.R.'s ears. One of their new kids, Jake, makes a comment on wanting to get more quality time out on the ice with Apolo when he gets to Sochi, too, and J.R. tries to not think about how Apolo is still training them, how he'll be there whenever J.R. is on the ice.

A few people ask questions about Apolo, mostly about holding on to America's place in the speed skating world but a few hint to more, one foreign press agent even directly mentioning the park photos, but J.R. dodges the questions as neatly as he can, and sometimes probably sloppily but he doesn't care, just doesn't want to hear about it.

Training starts up almost right as J.R. catches his breath in the dorms and he barely gets a chance to send a text to Apolo and Ben, just a quick here safe, see you soon :) that is harder to send than is should be.

When he settles back into his room for the night (finally, a bed, but the silence isn't good for this thoughts) he has a text back on his phone. Ben says he misses you already, it says, and J.R. resists calling and saying things he's not sure of despite whatever ridiculous time it must be on the west coast.

–

J.R. feels too stiff the first day of training sessions at the Olympic rink when Apolo shows up.

He'd been glad to see they'd made it, just the familiar grin on Apolo's face from across the room enough to relax the muscles in J.R.'s back momentarily in the arrivals section. Ben had rushed over and J.R. picked him up and hugged him just because it felt good to be able to, but Apolo seemed distant – not that J.R. expected much less, but it was strange and left J.R. feeling stupidly empty.

His practice runs go too slow, Simon overtaking him more than once; something that hasn't happened for years unless J.R. was coming off a bout of the flu or some sort of head trauma.

"What's up with you?" Coach asks, grinding his teeth like he's pretending he isn't angry.

"Tired," J.R. says, and catches Apolo frowning at him from the side where he's giving one of the new guys pointers on the 1500m trials.

"Fix it, go sleep and come back when you're ready to skate like an Olympian," Coach says, and J.R. nods and gets off the ice, almost cutting his finger when he slides on his skate guards to get to the changing rooms.

–

Trials go okay; J.R. fights heavy limbs and an entirely un-Olympic attitude by pressing on anyway, determined. He gets to semis in the 1500m, almost slipping around the last turn to qualify for the medal round but keeping himself up and coming in second. It feels good to know he did it, but he still feels off and the medal race is only twenty minutes away.

Apolo tugs him off to the back, waiting on the ready ground because he's a trainer, Ben up in the stands with J.R.'s mom and Yuki, (who insisted on coming to the games even though Apolo wasn't racing, because J.R was "upholding the Ohno family tradition, of course," – and J.R. had laughed it off at the time, but now –)

"Come on," Apolo says, tugging at J.R. as he slips on his team jacket.

J.R. follows somewhat blindly, shaking off the focus and intensity he'd gathered from being out on the ice. Apolo leads them to the team change room and pushes him down on a bench.

"Apolo," J.R. says, unsure if his voice sounds annoyed or shocked or as full of want as it seems in his own head.

Apolo sits next to him, close. "I can't stand watching you doing whatever you're doing to yourself out on the ice," he says, serious and low.

"I'm not --" J.R. says, but Apolo raises an eyebrow at him and he stops. "I keep thinking about leaving the apartment," he starts instead, and Apolo feels too close, too far. "I didn't mean for that, I just – I was unprepared."

"And stressed and on edge and exhausted, I know," Apolo finishes, something like a small smile on his face, forehead wrinkling under his bandanna (making it's appearance for the Olympics again, which J.R. finds more amusing than he should, under everything else he's been thinking about since he got to the games.)

J.R. feels some of the tension drain from his bones, from the stiffness in his spine, not all of it, but it's a good start.

"Hey," Apolo says, sudden and still close, "are you --"

J.R. curls his lips up the best he can manage, and just nods. "I'm good, yeah." He wants to ask if they're good, but isn't sure how.

Apolo reaches up and tilt's J.R.'s chin with two of his fingers, and J.R. holds his breath all over again, doesn't think of things he was still thinking about this time four years ago, in a similar changing room in a different country, but never this close.

"I --" J.R. starts, but Apolo pulls him forward with an almost questioning look, like he's unsure, and it makes J.R. feel all the more sure for what's to come, meeting Apolo's lips with his own, soft and dry then growing slick and wet, thighs touching and the slide of Apolo's tongue feeling like sparks down J.R.'s spine.

Apolo moves back first, much too soon, breaking off with a laugh. "Later," he says, "when you don't have a race to win a gold medal in."

J.R. presses close for a second because he can, dragging his lips down the side of Apolo's neck and laughing breathlessly against him.

"I hope that's a promise," he says, body feeling like liquid, loose and powerful.

"If you want it to be," Apolo says, and J.R. gets that it means more than just what's on the surface.

"Definitely," J.R. says.

–

The 1500m is sort of crazy, and J.R. skates from the back for longer than he means to, passing almost impossible, but when the bell signals the last lap he just feels the hum of energy under his skin, feels the crowd and the press of Apolo's hand on his neck from before, the promises of what he wants and what he's entitled to have and he just – moves. Faster than he's moved before.

It feels amazing.

–

 

"J.R!" Ben calls, all bright and full of energy, elongating the 'R' sound until it's not a sound at all, running ahead of Apolo and looking like he's about to tumble over at any second, heading right towards J.R.

J.R. stops so Ben can meet him and picks him up to swing him around, skates making him clumsy on the ground.

"You won," Ben says, grinning like his face is going to split in half and J.R. grins right back, knowing they're probably on camera – on multiple cameras, even – right now, and doesn't even care. He just keeps spinning with Ben because, yes, he really did win and it's sort of spectacularly amazing.

"I did," J.R. tells him, trying to walk forward a little, looking around at everyone in the stadium, grinning at a camera briefly, and then finding himself face-to-face with Apolo.

Apolo is smiling at him, proud and all at once J.R. feels warmer than the excursion on the ice could ever make him. "Gold," he says, sort of breathless in the way J.R. feels but really isn't yet, "that was amazing."

J.R. laughs, and uses the arm not holding Ben to wrap Apolo up between them, laughing into his neck.

Apolo's hand comes around, pressing into J.R.'s back and J.R. smiles, smaller now. "Sorry," he says, because he hasn't yet and he means it, sorry for everything and sorry for being so stupid and missing Apolo so much.

"I know," Apolo says, stepping back, grinning wide still, "I know."

–

Three individual medals and one team medal later, they go home.

On the plane Ben takes the window seat a row ahead of J.R and Apolo, right next to Yuki. J.R.'s mom and dad are across the isle from them and the plane is quiet save for a dull late-night murmur of voices in mixed languages.

J.R. is tired in a bone-heavy sort of way, pleased beyond anything he's ever felt before while still feeling content.

Apolo is tucked neatly into his seat, and it's not much of a stretch for J.R. to lean over and slump against his shoulder, to fall asleep to Apolo brushing his bangs off his face and pressing a dry-lipped kiss against his forehead.

His mom says something off in the distance and Yuki answers with a warm laugh in front of them, Ben's little voice filtering through – something about more crayons – and J.R. just relaxes into Apolo's side and thinks about going home and sleeping in a real bed before he has to go on a press tour.

–

Apolo's foot is warm on J.R.'s thigh under the table, a comforting weight as J.R. finishes his cereal and Apolo reads the newspaper.

The newspaper crinkles loudly when Apolo puts it down, swallowing loudly around his water. "So," he starts, a serious look on his face, "I was thinking we should --"

The conversation is too similar to one J.R. remembers clearly enough. "No," he says, cutting Apolo off with a slight kick under the table, "We are not adopting another kid."

Apolo grins at him and shakes his head, crinkling his eyes in a way that completely doesn't make J.R. want to slide around the table and make out with him for a while. Of course.

"I'm not ready for that yet," Apolo says, rolling his eyes, "I was going to say we should get a dog. I'm getting old and I want more chaos in the house to keep myself young."

"You're not old," J.R. says, automatic. He thinks about Ben chasing some happy-faced and tail-wagging dog around the house and down the street. It sounds like a good plan.

"You keep me young," Apolo says, softer than the words call for, and J.R. realizes it's as close to a verbal declaration of whatever, this, them, they've had a chance to say.

J.R. smiles settles his own foot against one of Apolo's thighs, scrunching his toes. "Lucky I'll always be around, then," he says, and grabs for the classified section of the paper to look for a dog.


End file.
